Jealousy
by DrowningEmbers
Summary: Jealousy sparks an idea in Marvel mind. I'm really bad at summaries... One-shot fanfic about Katniss and Marvel. Don't like the pairing, don't read. Rated M for a reason.


**Alright, at a request, I have written a Karvel fanfic. This will most likely be a one-shot. If you don't like the Katniss/Marvel pairing, don't read it. Rated M for a reason.**

**Marvel's Pov.**

I sit on the train, unsurprised at the glamor laid out before us. In district one; we're already close to the capitol. My district partner, Glimmer, at least, I think that's what her name is, gazes out the window, excited to see the capitol. She'll do well in these games, if she can keep her mouth shut. I've been tempted to kill her right her in the train, she's been jabbering on and on the whole train ride.

As we pull up to the station and clouds of people fill the walk-way, staring, peering, and trying to get a first glimpse of one of the career teams. In my district it is an honor to be chosen for the thing you've trained your whole life for, in the other districts, it's a death sentence.

I obey the Peacekeepers, and follow them to the Remake center, scowling at the ground as Glimmer's incessant bubbly energy begins to threaten her own life. I've known her since I was six, and she's always been like this. But I'm one of the few people who knows what she can do with a spear.

My stylists poke and prod at me, but decide they won't do anything major, they say I'm handsome enough as it is. I hardly notice as they slip a tunic over my head and tell me to close my eyes. They spray something all over my body, and when I open my yes I am covered in silver. I sigh; it's something similar every year. Boring. At least we're not from District 12, coal miners, I snort.

I keep my face stony as the well groomed horses pull the chariot through the tunnel of over-dressed capitol people. Glimmer is waving, and looking excited. As the chariot comes to a stop at the top of the circle, I look to the other tributes in their chariots. It's the same every year; the stylists are never that creative. Then I see the flames. The crowd is screaming, and for a minute I think something has gone wrong.

That's when I see her. She has brown hair, gray eyes, and a cloak of fire streaming behind a coal black suit that hugs her small frame. This was the volunteer from 12, where such a happening is practically unheard of. I can't help but admire her bravery for volunteering for the little girl. She looks strong and powerful, and I can't help but feel a tiny bit jealous when I see her district partner holding her hand.

**Katniss Pov. **

So far the capitol is exactly how I suspected. The people dress in outrageous clothes, the furniture is extravagant, the food is delicious, and everyone seems to worship President Snow.

Peeta and I look strange here, but that's probably the only thing we have in common.

During the first day of training, only one tribute really catches my eye. He is the male tribute from district one, I think his name is Marvel.

I struggle to light a fire while also trying to concentrate on what will be in the arena.

I strike the flint once more, about to give up, it sparks violently and the wool bursts into flame and burns my fingers. A long fingered hand shoves it away from me before I can blink, and I look up to see none other than Marvel. He has light bluish-greenish eyes, and our faces are inches away.

"Are you okay, Girl on fire?" He asks a worried expression on his face but his eyes laugh.

"I'm fine." I say, peeved at the nickname.

Before I can say anything else, he slips a piece of paper into my hand then walks away.

I look around to make sure no one is looking, and then slowly open the folded square.

"I can't keep my eyes off you. Training center roof tonight. Maybe I can help with your lighting-a-fire technique."

It's not a request, it's a command. At this realization a flash of heat runs through my body.

Quickly, I shred the piece of paper, and taking the flint once again, light it on the first try. I smile to myself, what could go wrong? Besides the training center roof is the only place where there aren't cameras.

That night, I don't eat much. Peeta notices, but doesn't comment, and I ignore Effie.

After dinner, I slip on a pair of loose black pants, and a dark green top. I wait until dark, and when I think everyone has gone to bed, slip out of my room, and to the elevator.

When I step onto the roof, he is sitting on the edge, gazing out, presumably at the lights of the capitol. He doesn't hear me approach and starts when I step into view.

He pats the roof beside him without a word. It's wrong, and against the rules, but I've never really been one for following them, and in two days I will be in the arena in a fight to the death. I need to escape for a while.

I sit down beside him, and he stares at me.

"I'm jealous of your district partner." He says, laughing slightly.

_Did he ask me up here just to talk about Peeta?_

"He gets to hold your hand, live in same flat, and basically be with you constantly. You're beautiful, girl on fire."

For some reason the thought of this well-built career jealous of Peeta because of me sends lightning through my body.

When I don't respond, he continues. "Your stylist did a good job setting you on fire; let's see if I can do as well."

Then his lips are on mine, and he's obviously done this before. Just like I was with Gale, I am hopelessly inexperienced when it comes kissing. He starts out soft, our lips melding together, then opening his mouth slightly he drags his tongue along the outside of my lips, sending sparks through me that I feel all the way down in my toes. I hesitate slightly, and then open my mouth.

His kisses become harder fiercer, and I grab his shirt and pull him closer to me. One of his hands supports my lower back as he slowly lowers me onto the roof. Lying on top of me, he removes his lips from mine, and begins to kiss my neck. I can't hold back the tiny moan that escapes me when his mouth finds my collar bone.

Reaching down, I tug at his shirt, wanting him. He smiles against my skin, then pulls away and strips off his shirt. His chest is well muscled, and I sigh appreciatively. The lights glint in his eyes, and he lowers himself onto me again. Sliding his hands over my waist and stomach then pull at my shirt, I raise my arms and he pulls it off, throwing it to the side. The fire within me burns brighter as he looks at me, and then whispers, his voice raspy. "Beautiful."

His lips meet mine once again and his hand slides up my thigh to reach the button on my pants. He undoes it then slowly pulls them off, and a warning bell goes off in my mind but instantly fades when he bites my lower lip slightly, and gently cups my center with his fingers.

I moan against his mouth, and he smiles, kissing me harder, and nearly ripping my panties out of the way. He traces his fingers along me and I shudder. Even as his tongue continues to mate with mine, he teases me, slipping in a finger, then another, and I struggle to keep from moaning louder than is safe.

He pulls away and I whimper a protest, until I see him undoing his pants. He slips off his boxers and even in the occasional flash-lit darkness; I see the size of him. He positions himself in between my legs, and asks me if I'm sure. Instead of answering, I pull his face towards me and kiss him hard. One hand grabs my hip, and he slides into me. Pain flashes through me and I almost cry out. Holding me tightly, he continues until he's all the way inside me, and then pauses, letting me get used to the feeling. Then slowly he begins to move in and out, then when I don't protest, faster. He bites my neck lightly, and I echo the roaring fire inside me with a moan. The heat inside me builds as he moves faster and faster, until I explode. I cry out, no longer caring if anyone can hear me as I unravel around him. I lie, stars bursting behind my eyes, as he pulls out and finishes as well.

No words pass between us as we put on our respective clothing. However, when he turns to leave, he calls "Thank you, Girl on fire."

Completely spent, the last thought that crosses my mind before I fall onto the capitol-made bed in my own room was how I was going to explain the marks on my neck to Cinna.


End file.
